


To Crown a King

by DraniKitty



Series: Tales from the Garbage Court [3]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Attempted Murder, Human Sacrifice (mentioned), Sorrow, Subterfuge, bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraniKitty/pseuds/DraniKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking an insult as their name, the Garbage Court proves their worth as a court to the sidhe lords of the city, only to grow attached to their chosen King of Misrule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Crown a King

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to cover all the tags I could think of that might be needed in case somebody wants to avoid something, but I can't help thinking I missed something...
> 
> Also holy crap this took me a long time, I had to rewrite at least one part.

It happened every year, a meeting of the courts of the city. The sidhe lords would gather at the start of spring and decide who, come winter again, would perform the ritualistic sacrifice of the King of Misrule. The ritual was ancient, older than the city itself, so far back it was barely a trading post on a river. Nobody even knew anymore if it held any actual power. Nobody wanted to chance it.  
  
Into the meeting of the sidhe lords walked a new court - The Garbage Court, the mismatched remnants and run aways no 'real' court wanted. Trott walked ahead, with Smith and Ross flanking him. Somewhere in the last few months, Ross had picked up an old aluminum baseball bat, now held at rest across his shoulders, while Smith walked with his hands in his pockets, an arrogant and rebelios smirk on his face.  
  
Kirin crossed his arms, one eyebrow up. Unlike New Years, he stood in all his glory, his full form revealed as laid down by old customs of trust amid the Lords. "Well if it isn't the Garbage Court! Never thought I'd see the trash bring itself in instead of taking itself OUT." No snickers or laughter rang out, as the gathered fae simply glared at the arrogance of the three.  
  
Trott held his hands up, fingers splayed. "But we were under the impression ALL the courts gathered at this! Are we not a court? By definition, we meet the requirements. At least three non-humans, in a unified pact of loyalty to each other, right?"  
  
As Kirin began to open his mouth, another of the sidhe lords held up his own hand, silencing him. "I think we should HUMOR them. After all, the selkie has a point... They DO meet the criteria to be considered a REAL court." He walked over, stopping and staring at Ross. "Even though church decorations shouldn't really count, but... Garbage and all that."  
  
Ross' grip tightened on his baseball bat, eyes narrowing. "Come closer and say that, you prick."  
  
This time the gathered fae did laugh. Smith's hands tightened into fists in his pockets, eyes narrow. Another of the gathered sidhe lords pointed at them. "We should have THEM do the sacrifice! Nobody ELSE wants to do it this year, so why not them?"  
  
Trott turned and looked at Smith and Ross, who both shrugged, then turned back. "Fine, we'll do it! And we're going to wipe the smirks off all your faces!" Turning on his heel, he walked out, Smith and Ross right behind him.  
  
Kirin uncrossed his arms, tail curling and uncurling. "That was easy enough... Too easy. We should watch them so they don't screw up..."  
  
"Oh, like YOU have anything to worry about, oh most powerful fae in the city." Beside Kirin, one of the shortest sidhe lords motioned up at him. "You control the most parts of the city, and even WE'RE not stupid enough to even THINK of defying you!" There was a round of agreement from the gathered fae. "They're just a group of stupid youth, they'll be gone by this time next year!"  
  
Leaning down, he jabbed the smaller fae in the chest. "You'd better be RIGHT, Sjin, or it's YOUR blood that will decorate the altar at the next Saturnalia."  
  
A gulp of fear and a nod were his only response to the threat.  
  


* * *

  
  
They stared down at the city from one of many rooftops. They'd been careful to pick one not within the territories of any of the sidh lords, wanting to prove they could do this task without crossing lines. Fae could be naughty, but not a single one of them wanted an angry and incredibly powerful fae after them.  
  
Arms crossed on the wall, Ross pointed to one walking by. "What about that one?"  
  
Trott watched the human walk by, then shook his head. "No... We should find somebody who's got nothing left to live for."  
  
Ross let out a frustrated sound, slamming his forehead against the wall's top. "This is so much easier when we're finding somebody for Smith to eat!"  
  
"I know, sunshine, but this isn't just a quickie and dinner." He sighed, resting his cheek against one hand. "This is important, and we can't muck it up."  
  
He let out a sigh, tail curling back and forth. "I don't like this... Why do we have to kill somebody? Why can't we just kill a goat?"  
  
Trott blinked, then started laughing. "We can't do THAT!" He turned serious, frowning at Ross. "Kirin would take it as an insult and kill US. Let's not have that."  
  
Ross' hair stood up, eyes widening. He didn't want to die, he still had so much of the world to learn about! He looked back down at the people below, before frowning. "This isn't working up here! We won't know anything about these people from a ROOF!"  
  
Running his hands through his hair, Trott let out a frustrated sound. "Dammit... Come on, let's go find Smith."  
  


* * *

  
  
They found him, a couple months later, in a bowling alley. The air was stale with old smoke, tinged with the smell of pizza, popcorn, and a hint of desperation.  
  
Smith looked around the place, frowning. "This is the stupidest game ever."  
  
Ross scratched at a ball, frowning. "They look kind of like EGGS..." He looked over at Trott and Smith, who looked back at him like he'd sprouted another head. "What? They do!"  
  
"Mate, what the hell kind of eggs are YOU running into?"  
  
"Well there was that bloke who came by last week saying he was selling dragon ostrich eggs..."  
  
Smith rubbed his face. "Tell me you didn't buy one..."  
  
"No! Of course not! But if there WERE dragon ostriches..."  
  
Trott could only shake his head, before looking around at the people bowling. There were multiple bowling groups, with at least one group of kids. All the groups and couples and such were clustered toward one end, but down at the other end were the solo bowlers. He reached up and grabbed both Ross and Smith by their shirts and dragged them along. "Come on, you wankers, let's get this over with so we can get OUT of here."  
  
Down at the far end of the bowling alley, they sat at a table, watching. Ross, still inexperienced in picking people out, kept pointing to this person or that, appealing more to what he thought Smith would kill in the back of his car than who they'd kill come December. They kept watching, even as people filtered out into the late afternoon light, most of even the solo bowlers going home. Eventually it was just the three, sitting and fretting, worried they wouldn't find a King of Misrule in time. After all, if they hadn't found one in the two or so months since the meeting of the courts, what hope did they have in finding somebody by the time they'd need a sacrifice?  
  
The doors of the bowling alley opened, letting in the dying light of day. Smith had fallen asleep at the table ages ago, not noticing the new bowler, and Ross didn't bother looking up from drawing on his face with a sharpie. Trott turned and looked, watching the lone figure pay for game time before going to a lane. Perhaps it was coincidence he'd picked one close to the trio of fae, or maybe he wanted an audience. Trott tapped his fingers thoughtfully, then turned back to his companions, swatting Ross. "Come on, stop drawing on Smith's face and look."  
  
Ross pouted, capping the sharpie before turning to look. The single bowler wasn't much to look at, tall and gangly-ish, rumpled clothes and short black hair under a baseball cap. Despite looking like an utter dad, he bowled with the practiced ease of somebody who'd been playing for years. Looking at the clock on the wall, glowing with neon lights, Ross tapped the table with some thought. "Awfully late for somebody to be bowling..."  
  
Trott nodded, watching the bowler. "Look at the way he moves. He's at the bowling alley, at an hour when most people are home having dinner with their families. He's clearly a man who doesn't care anymore, some sad sorrowful sap the world wouldn't miss. Probably has no future left."  
  
He tilted his head, then stood up. "Okay, let's go get him." As he started to walk away, he was suddenly yanked back by his tail. He looked back, finding Trott's fingers curled around the ring near the end. "What?"  
  
Pulling Ross back over, he motioned for him to sit down. "We can't take him NOW. It's too early in the year! We need to keep it IMPERSONAL."  
  
Ross could only sigh as he sat down on the floor next to Trott. From this angle, he could see where the chair he'd sat had bent slightly under his stone weight. "Why does anybody even need to die? We could sacrifice a chicken or something..."  
  
"I know you don't like it, sunshine..." He ran his fingers through Ross' hair, wondering not for the first time how and why stone even had hair. Maybe it was part of whatever magic had brought him to life. "But as much as we buck traditions and flip the bird into the void, there's some things even we won't ignore." He cringed. "If we did, the fae of the city'd be the LEAST of our worries."  
  
Blinking, Ross looked up at Trott. "What could possibly be scarier than KIRIN?"  
  
"My Nan, for one." Smith sat up, stretching and popping various joints. "You should've seen how pissed she got when Mum and I showed up with Trott. Mum had to hold her back from killing both of us!"  
  
Peeking over the table, Ross looked at Smith in alarm. "Why would she kill her own grandchild?!"  
  
Trott laughed, pushing his hair out of his face. "Because kelpies and selkies don't usually get along, apparently. Or, more generally, fresh water fae don't get along with salt water fae." He looked back at the bowling lane, watching their target bowl. He was actually pretty good at the game... Not that Trott knew much about it or hadn't hung around bowling alleys a lot when they first reached the city.  
  
Smith followed his gaze, taking in the rumpled look of the human. "That's our target, eh? How long we watching him for?"  
  
"Rest of the year if we have to. We need to make sure nobody'll miss him."  
  
He looked at Trott funny. "Okay, hold on. How many dumbass people have I killed in an alley or the back of my car, without giving a damn if somebody'll miss them after I eat them? Why does it matter if THIS one has people who'll miss him?"  
  
Trott leveled a look at Smith. "Would YOU want to eat some lonely sap with nothing left to live for?" He got up, motioning them to follow. "We have our target, he shouldn't be hard to remember later. Let's go, before Ross goes and talks to him. You remember what happened LAST time we let him talk to a target."  
  
Getting up and following, Ross let out a huff. "It was only ONCE... You didn't tell me to NOT talk to her!"  
  
"And the point is you knew it was so Smith could eat her, you don't talk to your food so INTIMATELY, Ross. I don't see you talking to your chocolate bars."  
  
Behind them, Smith could only laugh. When they got to the car, he started to adjust the mirror, only to stop. "What the hell happened to my face? Why are you two laughing?! ROSS!"  
  


* * *

  
  
They saw him again in the middle of summer, sitting in the mall's food court. The building was full of the usual teenagers and young adults, spending their parents' money or money they didn't particularly have, ignoring the lonely man that looked like anybody's dad.  
  
Ross leaned over the low wall around the fountain, staring in at the coins that littered the bottom. As he reached to stick his hand him, he was pulled back by Smith, letting out a whine. "But Smiiiiith... Nobody's USING them! They don't want them, why can't I take them?"  
  
"Because those are peoples' wishes! God, Ross, you don't mess with that!" He crossed his arms, then turned to Trott. "Come on, we gotta get away from the fountain before Ross jumps in chasing money and wishes."  
  
As they went into the food court proper, one eye was kept on the man at all times. Smith and Trott were soon arguing over what to order for lunch - The burger place, that little taco place that always smelled funny, or there was that oriental place that had just opened. Neither one noticed Ross' distraction until Trott turned to ask what he wanted. He blinked, looking around and frowning. "Where the hell did Ross just go?"  
  
Across the food court, Ross calmly ambled up to the lonely man at the table. People gave him a wide berth if they were walking, leaning away if they were sitting. He was still unaccustomed to hiding what he was, so they took one look at his horns and tail and wanted nothing to do with him, as non-threatening as he could be. His hands were even in the pocket of the front of his hoodie, worn despite the summer heat since he had no real concept of being TOO warm.  
  
If the man at the table noticed, he didn't seem to care, not even looking up as he shoved bits of food around.  
  
Ross took a seat on the floor next to him, simply staring up at him. After a moment, the man finally noticed, staring at him with a bit of confusion. "Damn, usually when fae come after people, they bother hiding what they are."  
  
He was taken aback by the accent, so accustomed to the local peoples' dialects. His tail twitched, curling around his own waist. "Don't really know how yet. Trott and Smith tried teaching me, just isn't sticking yet, I guess."  
  
"Ah..." He looked at his food, then at Ross. "You want the rest? I mean, I'm not all that hungry, really..." He tilted the styrofoam container, showing him the leftover fast food grade Chinese food.  
  
Ross frowned, accepting the offered container. "You look sad. Why?"  
  
The man shrugged, sitting back in the cheap mall chair. "Got my reasons. Look, if you're after killing me, I'd appreciate not being led along."  
  
He paused mid-way through lifting the fork to his mouth, brow furrowing. "That's depressing."  
  
Before the man could reply, Smith spied Ross' tail. "ROSS!" He went over, Trott in tow. "Don't wander off like that, you had us worried!"  
  
Ross simply responded by shoving noodles into his mouth, staring up at Smith.  
  
Trott sighed, then looked at the man. They couldn't be talking to him, not for long. They couldn't go getting attached, especially Ross. "Sorry if he was bothering you, he's... Still learning about the world."  
  
The man tilted his hat back, a bemused expression starting to spread on his face. They wouldn't know it at the moment, but it was the first smile he'd started to crack in some time. "Nah, it's okay. Kinda makes me think of a big puppy with a glass tail." He reached down, rustling Ross' hair. When he started scratching, he was rewarded with a happy sound and a tail curling around his leg. "Yup, a big puppy."  
  
Smith bit back a growl, tugging on Ross' sleeve. "Come on, Ross, let's leave, um... Whoever he is alone."  
  
"You can call me Sips." When he held out his hand, he found hesitation from Ross' friends.  
  
Finally, Trott reached out and shook his hand. "Trott. This is Smith." This was also dangerous. They were getting to know their prey, and their prey was smart enough to not use a real name. Who named their kid Sips, anyway?  
  
"Pleasure meeting you two." He stood up, stretching out. "Whelp, gotta run. Bowling alley's calling my name." He held up his hands, cupping them slightly over his mouth. In as feminine a voice as he could muster, he said, "Siiips, Siiiips! Come and bowl!"  
  
Despite the last of the noodles in his mouth, Ross snorted and laughed, then glared at Smith when a hand thumped him on the chest.  
  


* * *

  
  
Out in the car, Ross was ushered into the back seat. As Smith and Trott got in the front seat, they both turned and glared at him, earning a confused look. "What?"  
  
Gripping the steering wheel, Smith rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Ross... What did we say, about NOT talking to him? Now he knows what to call us, he knows our FACES, he knows your TAIL, and he's got a pretty good idea of what we are, and we have a name to call HIM by. This is what we DIDN'T want."  
  
"Oh..." He looked down at his hands, flexing his clawed fingers just a bit. "He just looked... Lonely." Sad, lonely, depressed...  
  
Trott sighed, rubbing his face before buckling his seat belt. "And that's why we chose him, because we're pretty sure nobody will miss him."  
  
"He wouldn't mind, actually..." The quiet statement got both Smith and Trott turning to look at Ross again. He fumbled with his seat belt, wondering not for the first time why he'd need one. He was a statue, after all, he couldn't possibly be injured, could he? Then he remembered that he could be SMASHED, which was close enough to injury, and not something he wanted. "He said if we were going to kill him... We should just hurry up and do it."  
  
They were silent for a moment, before Smith started the car. "Yeah, well, we can't exactly hurry shit along. We can't kill him until Saturnalia, and we can't go getting to know him!"  
  
Ross could only look out the window, feeling morose. On one hand, he wanted to do right by this court he'd found himself in. On the other hand, he REALLY didn't want to have to kill anybody. And then on a third hand, he wanted to get to know Sips. He seemed nice. Sad, but nice. Tail flicking, he decided to let his emotions get the better of him.  
  


* * *

  
  
An advantage of not sleeping, or needing to sleep, was being able to sneak out when everybody else was fast asleep. Ross only had to wait before Smith and Trott were bundled up in bed, nestled together in a pile of blankets as rain gently pattered against the flat's windows. Annoyingly, they leaked, and while he wasn't keen to be out in the increasingly cold weather, he had somewhere to go and someone to meet.  
  
There was a confident air in his stride as he jumped from roof to roof, the miles all but melting away as he ran. Even the rain didn't bother him up here.  
  
The building he finally stopped on was like every other run-down complex, the flats inside not much different from the one he lived in with Smith and Trott. Drafty, cold, leaking windows, bad heating, and rattling pipes. It was who lived in the top-floor flat that was more his concern, as he climbed down the fire escape ladder from the roof to the window. One claw gently tapped at it until it opened, and he smiled brightly. "Good day!"  
  
Sips rubbed his face, unable to stop a chuckle. "You really need to learn how to use the front door." He stepped aside, letting Ross in. "You're just in time for one of those cheesy old movies." The microwave let out a ding, signalling that the popcorn was done. Sips closed the window, then went and grabbed it, while Ross sat on the floor by the sofa.  
  
They'd been doing this for three months now, after Ross had approached Sips at the mall. It was all secret, kept from Smith and Trott for fear of what they might say or do. They had told him to not get close to Sips, because he'd be sacrificed. But like finding a kelpie sitting in his church, Ross had grown curious and approached.  
  
There were no words other than greetings at first, as they simply grew used to each others' company. The silence as they watched movies together was companionable, a quiet that was like a comfortable blanket in winter, wrapped around them as they both sat in the tiny flat illuminated by the television.  
  
His tail curled lazily around Sips' ankle, Ross had his head laying on Sips' knee, watching as the monster of the movie claimed another victim. The fingers lazily running through his hair was a comfort, something he was enjoying despite the niggling feeling. As a commercial came on, he sat up and stretched. "Thirsty?"  
  
"Yeah, a bit." Sips scratched at his throat, then stretched out, himself. "I think there's a couple beers in the fridge, if you wanted to get them."  
  
"Yeah, okay." Ross got up, padding to the kitchen. Out of a habit he'd probably picked up from Smith, he scratched at his side, opening the fridge to stare in. It said a lot about Sips, that there was almost nothing in it besides a carton of milk and a few glass bottles. In the door sat a lonely partial stick of butter. He looked at it, then grabbed the two bottles, starting to notice that niggling feeling.  
  
Sips watched him approach, seeing the conflict on his face. "You okay, Ross?" He accepted the offered bottle with a quiet thanks, popping the lid off with an opener left sitting on the table by his chair.  
  
As he sank down to the floor, Ross fidgeted, playing with his bottle. After a moment, he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on them. "No.." He looked back up, face filled with regret. "Smith and Trott didn't want me doing anything like this, getting to know you, or close to you."  
  
He took a drink, staring down at Ross. When he put the bottle down, he shifted so his elbows rested on his knees and he was leaning forward. "And why's that, if I can prod at you?"  
  
"Because... We're supposed to do the sacrifice at Saturnalia of the King of Misrule..." He let the rest drop, part of him hoping Sips didn't ask more, or that he understood what that meant about getting to know him.  
  
Silence came from Sips as he stared at the television. After a moment, his fingers started going through the short dark hair again, relaxing back into his chair to stare at the movie but not really watch it. After a moment, he looked back at Ross. "Rule one of having a farm is to never name your livestock raised for slaughter. Rule two is to not treat them like pets or companions." He ruffled the dark hair. "You'd make a bad farmer, Ross."  
  
He stared in confusion, brow furrowing. "But I'm NOT a farmer..."  
  
"It's an analogy." What did those two fae teach Ross, anyway? "The point is, you shouldn't have got to know me, and now you're attached." He held his hands up, an easy smile on his face. "If you hadn't done that, I would have just given up in a heartbeat." He tilted his hat back, scratching under it. "I mean, look at where I live, this place is a dump." He got morose. "Nobody'd really miss me, anyway."  
  
"I would..."  
  
The quiet statement startled him, looking down at wide blue eyes. "I guess that's the problem here... I'd hate to look down, and see your face all unhappy because you miss me." It wasn't a pleasant thought, and it was bringing the depression back that Ross had managed to chase away.  
  
He only let out a hum, resting his cheek back on Sips' knee as his tail curled back around his ankle. "Maybe I can convince them to pick somebody else... There's still time, isn't there?"  
  
"Until Saturnalia? You got two months to convince them."  
  
Ross became quiet, only moving to take another drink as he watched the rest of the movie. It would be over soon, and soon enough he'd have to go back to Trott and Smith.  
  


* * *

  
  
Pumpkins had appeared around the city, part of the decorations for Halloween. It was one of the eight days of the year where fae could walk around as they were, glamours dropped as they walked amid humans in costumes. On a day when people pretended to be something else, fae could just be themselves, with no humans wise to the fact outside Saturnalia.  
  
Not that any of it mattered to Ross. He still hadn't gotten the hang of glamour, after nearly a year free of his church. He looked around the bowling alley, as the plastic chair he sat in groaned threateningly. The whole place was decorated for the holiday, black and orange streamers everywhere with paper pumpkins and fabric ghosts, with a contest going on further down the alley as people bowled in costumes.  
  
Sips hadn't bothered with a costume, simply wearing his usual clothes as he sent a ball careening down the lane. He paused to watch the pins fall over, then returned to where Ross was sitting. "Why do you keep looking at the balls like that?"  
  
Ross bit back a laugh, muttering, "Balls.." for a moment, then looked up at Sips. "I keep thinking they look like big round eggs. Like... An ostrich... Dragon... Thing."  
  
"I assure you they're not eggs." He picked up his ball after it came back, balancing it carefully in his hands. "They got this thing on the inside, kind of shaped like an hour glass." He went over to the lane, going through the careful steps to send the ball careening down toward the pins again. It crashed into them, sending all ten scattering across the back to be swept away.  
  
Sips gave a quiet nod, turning to head back to Ross again, only to stop. His gaze held near the front counter, staring at two people looking the other direction down the bowling alley. "Hey, aren't those your friends?"  
  
Ross nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to look. "Oh, shit! They can't know I'm here!" He looked around, then got up, hurrying to hide in the nearest bathroom. He didn't make it more than two meters.  
  
"ROSS!" Smith hurried down the carpeted walk, watching Ross freeze, tail up in a manner like a dog caught digging in the rubbish bin. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Trott trailed behind him, noting both the manner Ross was trying to run off and just who he was with.  
  
"You've been naughty, Ross." He stopped at the rail, leaning on it to look down at both Ross and Sips. "We told you not to do EXACTLY this."  
  
He chewed his lip, looking down at the floor in guilt. His tail curled around his feet, the tip poking at the carpet. "I'm sorry... He was just so lonely... I didn't like it. It... It reminded me of... Me."  
  
Any anger Trott felt melted away, replaced by sadness. He was reminded of coming home to find Smith had brought Ross home on the reasoning of him needing them, and of a lonely pup daring to swim to shore to meet a kelpie foal that was about as lonely. He let out a long and drawn sigh, rubbing his face. "Ross..."  
  
"If I might say something?" All eyes turned as Sips walked up, hands shoving into his pockets as he climbed the stairs. "I get what you're doing, and what you're trying to teach him. Said it myself, he'd make a bad farmer. Never name your pig you're raising for slaughter, you get attached, and then it's time to kill it... And you can't." He leaned on the rail, crossing one foot over his ankle. "But I think you all messed up in this."  
  
Smith eyed Sips, frowning. "What makes you say WE messed up?"  
  
"Because you were so eager to please the shit lords that you picked your pig for slaughter way too soon." He motioned between them all, as Ross joined them. "You're not supposed to go picking them before November, usually, so you at least have time to find somebody else if Ross proves way too attached." He looked at Ross, with his glass horns and bright blue eyes. "And frankly... He might already be."  
  
Prepared to respond, Trott stopped, frowning. "Wait, how do YOU know so much about the Saturnalia sacrifice?"  
  
Sips gave a shrug, tilting his hat back to scratch at his scalp. "I got my ways. Unless you did something equally stupid and told them you'd already picked." The way they all looked down told him the answer. "Well you're all well and truly fucked, aren't you?" He was thoughtful, looking down the alley, chewing on his lip. "I wonder if you can just sacrifice a goat..."  
  
"We actually discussed that, it would piss them off more and we're keen on NOT doing that."  
  
"Fair enough." Sips turned, crossing his arms and leaning on the rail. Somebody moved to a lane two down from his, starting to bowl. Nobody seemed to mind the group, particularly Ross and his glass tail. They probably thought it was part of a costume, given the holiday. "Well, if this had to happen at midsummer, I probably wouldn't have complained. Now I've got complaints about the idea of dying."  
  
As he leaned on the rail next to Sips, Trott considered him. He frowned, eyes narrow. "Well, we have a month and a half to figure something out, because neither Smith nor I are keen on Ross being upset." Behind them, Smith had vanished into the arcade with Ross, both suddenly distracted like puppies with a new stick, leaving Trott and Sips to talk. "But I AM curious... Ross approached you because you reminded him of himself. Why does he keep spending time with you?"  
  
He picked at the paint on the rail. "Honestly? No idea. I don't exactly make him do anything. He just kinda... Shows up at my flat, and we watch cheesy movies together, eat popcorn, knock back a couple drinks..." He gave a shrug. "We hang out." He couldn't really describe it any other way. "Sometimes we talk."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Oh, everything. Like there's this lion statue, over at the library... He said it makes a great place to sleep in the summer sun, draped across the paws." He chuckled, trying to imagine it. Every time he did, Ross never had his shoes on. "I told him grass at the park is much better, then you get all the dogs wanting to say hello."  
  
Imagining Ross draped on the lion's paws wasn't hard for Trott, he'd found him there a few times while looking for him. Once he'd even been curled up more like a cat than an otherwise human-looking gargoyle. He watched the people bowling, making a face. "This game is so boring."  
  
Sips shrugged, then pushed away from the rail to walk back down to his lane. "I find it relaxing, personally."  
  
Trott watched him walk, musing slightly. Their first king of misrule was showing just what Ross saw in him. There was an easy way about talking to him, how he barely even knew Trott and was already talking to him with the ease humans talked to close friends. It made him wonder how much Ross may have told him about the fledgeling court. After a moment of thought, he put his head down. "Oh, fuck it." He glanced at the arcade, where Smith and Ross where both yelling excitedly while playing Street Fighter, then pushed away from the rail to go sit and watch Sips. They'd figure out where he was soon enough.  
  


* * *

  
  
Pounding on the front door at what the Garbage Court had come to refer to as an ungodly hour was not uncommon an occurrence. Because of that, when Trott opened the door of the flat, he was expecting any number of things. One of the neighbors, complaining yet again about the noise. The neighbor's dog, barking at their door. Maybe even the landlord, come to threaten them with eviction again if they didn't stop with the stomping. Not that they could particularly help the last one, Ross simply walking probably sounded like stomping to everybody else.  
  
What he wasn't expecting, on All Hallow's Day, was a faun. If one ignored his goat legs and the tail peeking out of under the back of his shirt, as well as his pointed ears, he'd ALMOST pass for human. It'd take a very unobservant human to mistake the faun for human, though.  
  
Rubbing his face, still half asleep, Trott glared at the faun. "Who are you and why are you at our door? And why are you so bloody stupid, walking around like that?"  
  
The faun visibly bristled, even his moustache and beard fluffing up. "I assure you, nobody will see me! I'm here on business from the Sidhe Lords of the city. Saturnalia's in a little over a month, and we're FULLY expecting you to... To..." He leaned, staring past Trott with steadily widening eyes.  
  
Trott turned around, blinking. Sips was in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. There was a breath of silence, before Trott turned back to the faun. "We'll sort things, don't worry."  
  
"But that's your SACRIFICE!"  
  
"Wouldn't a sacrifice happy to give themselves up make the magic stronger? Don't worry about it, we'll SORT it. Good DAY." He closed the door, causing the faun to jump back.  
  
After a moment, the door opened back up, Trott leaning out. "Who were you again?"  
  
"Sjin! I'm one of the sidhe lords, you disrespectful-" The door shut again, cutting him off. Bristling all over, Sjin glared at the door, before donning his glamour to leave. Kirin wouldn't be happy to hear about this... He paused in starting to leave to grin mischievously, then hurried off down the hall back to the lift.  
  
Wandering into the kitchen, Trott rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He discovered what Sips had been up to, humming as he made breakfast. "His Shitness won't be happy to find out you're hanging around us."  
  
"Let him be unhappy." If he had to be frank, Sips was amazed that Trott and Smith had warmed up to him as much as they had, and it hadn't even been a full day yet. Of course, buying a round of drinks had helped...  
  
"How can you be so calm about this all? We've only been a court proper since spring, and WE'RE the ones who're supposed to do a sacrifice to protect the fae of the city another year!" He crossed his arms, folding overly-long sleeves to keep it from feeling too awkward. "Here we've gotten attached.."  
  
Sips paused, looking over his shoulder. "Aw, you and Smiffy like me, too? That's so sweet of you!"  
  
Trott couldn't help smiling as he nudged Sips. "Oh, shut up." His expression sobered. "That doesn't change the problem, though."  
  
Popping a piece of ham in his mouth, he contemplated the situation. After a moment, he turned to Trott, brow furrowed. "Just how did you guys even GET this job, if you're so new?"  
  
"Out of all the small courts that pop up in the city all the time, we were the ones with the balls to walk in on the spring meeting of the sidhe lords." Having the balls to do stuff had never been a problem for Trott or Smith, though. It was knowing when to take those balls and hold them back that was the problem. "They took that as a challenge to their authority, and tasked us with finding the next King of Misrule." He blinked as a piece of ham was offered. "You're feeding me now, are you?"  
  
"Be rude not to. Take it or leave it." Trott gave him an amused look, then opened his mouth, accepting the bite of ham. It made Sips smile, which in turn brought a smile to Trott's face. "There we go! That's what I like to see, smiles!"  
  
Trott chuckled, still smiling as he looked down at the scrambled eggs in the pan. "I can see now why Ross likes you." He grabbed a rag, cleaning the counter where there were bits of egg goo. Their flat was shit, but he wasn't about to let the kitchen be a disaster. "More of why, anyway. Saw some of what he likes last night at the bowling alley."  
  
Turning the burner off, he glanced at Trott. "And what is it you see?" He was curious. Fae didn't usually associate with humans in such a manner, simply keeping company with them. No, it was all about trickery, being owed debts, sometimes outright hunting humans. He did wonder what they did with the debts, though... But so far, these three didn't seem interested in any of that.  
  
Accepting a helping of eggs, Trott sat down at the flimsy table. There were only two chairs, neither he nor Smith having ever truly gotten around to getting a third for Ross. He didn't think any chair they could afford would HOLD the weight of living stone, though. "You act like you've known us for years, when it's only been since, what... July? August? And you've only actually properly talked to me and Smith since last night." He looked at his eggs, then got up to get a fork. "But you make smiling easy. I don't find people who do that too often. I think you make the fourth or fifth."  
  
Grabbing a fork for himself, Sips joined Trott at the table. "Now you have me curious, who are the others?"  
  
"Smith, Ross, my mum.. Smith's mum..." He ticked them all off on one hand, then lifted the last finger. "So that means you make five. And I don't mean just any smile, I mean..." He ran his fingers through his hair for a moment. "Fuck... I mean, like.. An affectionate smile. The smile you have when you're around somebody you enjoy the company of."  
  
"I get what you're saying. Ross got me smiling like that for the first time since last winter." He started eating, hearing a steady and heavy footfall approach.  
  
Smelling the eggs, Ross had finally pulled himself away from the window. When they'd brought Sips home, after probably far too many drinks, he'd felt his protective instincts rise up, like a raging animal out for blood, and he'd taken to standing watching out the window. This wasn't Sips' flat, where the magic of his possessing the flat protected him from intruding fae. Daylight brought a sense of safety, and the smell of food brought the sense of hunger.  
  
"What happened last winter?" He grabbed a plate of eggs, sitting on the floor next to Trott's chair to eat. "Besides Smith burning down my church so I could leave it..."  
  
Sips' eyebrows went up as he leaned over, looking at Ross. "Is THAT where you came from?" He got a nod, Ross' mouth too full to respond. "Well then.." He sat back up, then stabbed some of his eggs. He contemplated answering, as he examined the egg, full of bits of ham and various vegetables. Finally, he set his fork down. "You sure you want the answer? It's kinda depressing."  
  
Ross gave a shrug, swallowing his mouthful of egg. "I spent forty-six years alone in a church that was falling apart, nobody to talk to, because the people who'd cared for it and used it abandoned it. I can't think of much more depressing than that."  
  
"You'd be surprised." He looked away, elbows resting on the table and nose resting on his folded hands. Ross decided to not push the topic, settling to eat his food.  
  
Finishing his own, Trott rose to put his plate in the sink. "That was quite good, Sips. I should go wake Smith up, before Ross eats his share for him."  
  


* * *

  
  
As he sent a customer off with their latest purchase, Kirin couldn't help smiling. Every chance to keep people in debt to him was welcomed, something he reveled in, and his shop proved the perfect way to do so. He turned away from the counter, starting to tend to some decorations meant more for the impending season, when the bell over the door jingled. "Hello, welcome!"  
  
"Kirin, we have a problem!"  
  
He bristled, glamour flickering for a moment. "It had better be a VERY good reason, Sjin, that you're in my shop." He turned around, crossing his arms. Though both were sidhe lords, territory still mattered, and Sjin had crossed from his to Kirin's.  
  
Sjin visibly shrank under the stare, shuffling closer. "You remember the Garbage Court?"  
  
"Very distinctly, it's hard to forget that rag-tag bunch."  
  
He pursed his lips, frowning under his moustache. "And you remember how they declared their chosen sacrifice for Saturnalia."  
  
"Their sad little King of Misrule? Yes..." He turned and went back to organizing things. "Interesting choice, given last year's sacrifice."  
  
"He's at their flat now!" A clay decoration fell off the shelf, shoved by a sudden hand movement, and shattered on the floor. The silence that followed was heavy, air charged like it was full of electricity.  
  
"He's... WHERE?"  
  
"I went to remind them this morning, of the impending sacrifice, just like you and the others told me to, and he was in their flat, rooting around in their fridge!" Sjin was practically hopping from foot to foot, anxious about what was happening. He was ready to run if Kirin's anger truly came out, not wanting to be in the way.  
  
A quiet rage seethed under the surface. Kirin tapped his foot for a moment, before he went and grabbed a broom and dust pan. "Keep an eye on them."  
  
"Why ME?"  
  
He loomed over Sjin, the rest of his eyes opening to glare full force. "Because you're the SMALLEST, I'm the BIGGEST, and you will do as you're TOLD."  
  
Sjin shrank back, his own glamour flickering before he squeaked out a 'yes sir' and hurried out the door. When the shop was quiet again, Kirin let out a sigh, turning to sweep the broken decoration up. "I'm getting tired of this all..." He picked up the cherubic face from the pan, looking at how it smiled back at him.  
  


* * *

  
  
"FINISH HIM!"  
  
Ross hammered the button on the game cabinet, eyes narrow and tongue poking out, as he tried his best to keep his character alive. Beside him, Smith was already all but crowing at his victory, smashing his own buttons in rapid fire succession to defeat Ross' character.  
  
At a table not far from the arcade, Sips and Trott sat watching the pair. Picking up a slice of the over-sized pizza, Sips reclined in his seat, a grin on his face. "I don't think I could ever stop watching those two." He took a bite, eyes closing in bliss. Not many pizza places got the honorific of 'best in the city' from him, but the Crooked Caber was just the place to get it.  
  
Trott let out a laugh, picking up his own half-eaten slice. "They are something else, aren't they?" He ate a bite, placing the slice back on his plate. As he swallowed, his eyes scanned the pub, not for the first time since they'd arrived. Somehow, in all the time they'd been living in the city, he and Smith had never found the place. The owner and bartender reminded him greatly of the men up on the moores, and indeed the pub reminded him of the first place they'd picked up a drunk traveler on Smith's charm alone. It had been the night that changed the entire game for them, from looking like a boy and his horse to a couple of kind strangers on the road giving a hitch hiker a lift.  
  
For his part, the bartender seemed to not mind having a couple fae and a gargoyle in his pub, so long as they all behaved themselves. He couldn't know that Smith had already eaten his fill for the week, some random night club floozie nobody would remember the name of in the morning.  
  
Beside him, Sips picked up his drink. "Getting lost in thought there, Trotty, what's up?"  
  
"Thinking about the Saturnalia. There's only a week left, we haven't a solution, and I'm fairly sure the shit lords have ALL been watching us." He sighed, taking a drink of his own beer. "I've talked to the other small courts in the city, and they've said this is exactly why they don't go to the meeting of the sidhe lords every spring. Nobody wants to be in the spotlight."  
  
"Well, you said it yourself. You guys had the balls to show up." He tipped his mug back, then looked in it. "Damn, I can see the bottom."  
  
He let out a long sigh, swirling the last dregs of his own beer. "Balls or not, we've grown too attached to just... Kill you." A month and a week had done a lot. Sips' easy attitude had warmed both Trott and Smith up to him, like an older brother or something. Never once had Sips tried to take Smith's bridle, with as many opportunities as he'd had. Never once had Sips gone looking for Trott's hidden skin, even though he easily could have in the night. They had, after a month, come to trust him around their most precious things, as Sips seemed to have come to trust his life in their presence.  
  
Sips was quiet, staring off at nothing. He set his empty mug down, toying with the rim. "I've noticed something in the last week."  
  
"What's that?" Trott leaned back in his own seat, glancing at the door. It had opened, and a familiar bearded face had walked in. Giving Sjin a tired look, Trott simply flipped him off, unable to hide his smirk at the angry and ruffled look he got in return. Ignoring further expressions as Sjin went to the bar, he turned back to Sips.  
  
"You're not leaving me alone." When he got a confused look, he motioned. "The only place I've gone and NOT had somebody following me is the bathroom in your flat. I go to the store in the morning, Ross follows with me. I go to the store in the afternoon, Smiffy's with me. I go somewhere in the evening, you're all there with me." He cracked a grin. "I feel like a celebrity with an entourage!"  
  
Letting out a laugh, he leaned on the table. "Well that's one way to look at it!" Glancing at the bar, Trott's mirth sobered away. "When I said we'd grown attached, I meant it." He drank the last of his beer, warm from sitting so long. He made a face at the warmth. "Perfect moment to see why Smith calls it glorified piss water..." He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, then looked at Sips. "I don't think any one of us wants you to die, Sips." He chewed on his lip, trying to find the right words as to why. It was more than attachment, and he was amazed, on one hand, that it had only taken a month. But then, it had taken only a couple days to get attached to Smith when they were a couple decades younger and standing on a beach, and only a few hours with Ross.  
  
Even if he had spent a month telling them to recant for their sins that, frankly, neither fae gave a damn about. Human religion would always be lost on them.  
  
Leaning over to give Trott a pat on the shoulder, Sips stood up. "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think I wanna leave you dorks behind like that. If I'm gonna go, it'd better either be when I'm an old man, or in some amazing and spectacular way." He made jazz hands, a grin on his face. "Maybe in a strip club or something, middle of a blowie!"  
  
Trott let out a laugh, leaving cash on the table. "You'd certainly go out happy like that!" He got up, heading to pay their tab. "Ross, Smith, time to stop beating each other up in pixel form!"  
  
Smith was distracted from the game a moment, looking to Trott. "Yeah, okay, just give us a min--"  
  
"FINISH HIM!"  
  
He turned back expression incredulous as Ross took his character out. "Hey, that's not fair, I was distracted!"  
  
Ross simply grinned at him, giving him a pat on the back. "Better luck next time, Smith!"  
  
At the bar, Sjin watched them all, toying with his mug, a frown on his face and eyes narrow.  
  


* * *

  
  
Ross wasn't the only one up, late into the night, staring out the thin panes of the bedroom window. Trott sat in a chair, feet on the sill, as he stared out at the lights below. The city glimmered with the light of the approaching human holiday, while fae hid away for the night. Saturnalia was the next day, the start of the single most important holiday for fae across the city.  
  
Sitting on the floor beside him, Ross had his cheek resting on Trott's thigh, blinking at the world outside the window as gentle fingers slid through his hair. "We have one week..."  
  
"I know, sunshine." From the seventeenth through the twenty-third, the fae would all be, outside the sidhe lords, in a near-constant state of partying. Like Halloween, fae would run around without their glamours.  
  
The first time they'd been in the city for the holiday, both Smith and Trott had been shocked to wake up and find what could easily be called a herd of kelpies galloping past their motel. Knowing they were there, watching from the rails of the second floor, one had stopped and looked Smith dead in the eyes, reared with a squeal of delight, then taken off again. The invitation to run with them was clear, and they had given in, lost in the fun of it all, with not one of the kelpies seeming to mind the selkie in their midst.  
  
They weren't nearly so young and naive now, very nearly trapped several times in various big courts.  
  
Ross let out a hum, closing his eyes to turn his face, pressing his forehead against Trott's leg. "I can feel all this energy, Trott... I don't think I like it."  
  
He glanced down, fingers still sliding through dark hair, concern filling him. "Did you ever feel it, in the church?"  
  
"No, not like this." His tail slid along the floor, scratching at the worn cold wood slightly. His fingers slid up to grip at a flannel pant leg, a whimper escaping. "It's like... I need to go out there, and... I don't know. Do things? Break something?" He paused. "Run naked through the snow at the park."  
  
Trott let out a quiet laugh, scratching behind an ear. He was rewarded with a happy sound. "That's part of the magic of Saturnalia. It's a week where fae run around as they are, like Halloween, but longer. It's an old magic, maybe older than even you are. It takes a lot of practice to ignore it, and you'll get there eventually. But it all ends in a week, when..." He bit his lip, glancing at the bed. Sips was asleep, hugging a pillow while Smith was nestled against his back. It was one of those moments where Smith looked like a pet cat or dog.  
  
Ross looked up, following Trott's gaze. He chewed on his lip, then turned back to bury his face again. "Does he have to? Does anybody have to die?" He looked up, eyes filled with sadness. "Why does anybody have to die, ever?"  
  
He couldn't look Ross in the eye, turning his gaze back to the window. Somewhere in the building a clock began chiming the hour, and the midnight bells rang across the rooftops from one of the churches. Outside, the fae began to stir, coming out of hiding to begin their week of mischief and merriment, taunting and teasing mortal men with the explicit knowledge of what they chose to live amid. Shifting how his feet rested against the window sill, Trott finally looked back at him. "It's a very old tradition, with a very old spell to go with it. Blood must be spilled on the altar as the spell is recited by the members of the court tasked with making the sacrifice, so that we may be protected another year."  
  
His brow furrowed, gaze turning to the window. "Protection from what? What could possibly harm fae that they need magic to protect them?"  
  
Growing silent for a moment, fingers still running through Ross' hair, Trott wondered the same thing. Finally, he got up, stretching. "Not sure, myself. Didn't do it up on the moores, didn't do it... Before then." He ruffled Ross' hair, walking over to the bed. "Come to bed, they can't get in here."  
  
As he stood up, Ross looked out the window one last time. If he squinted, he could make out a faun watching right back, before it went bounding off into the night. He let out a confused sound, then went and crawled under the covers as Trott held them up invitingly. The silence was broken by both Smith and Sips sitting up with yelps of surprise and complaints about the cold tail draping across them, prompting it to slide back to hang off the bed.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dawn on the last day of the Saturnalia felt bitter. Even Smith didn't seem keen on merriment, sitting watching some sappy Christmas movie. Trott watched from the kitchen table, hands wrapped firmly around a mug. He looked at the last bits, then got up, going over. "Chin up, lads, it's the last day of Saturnalia! We should be out there having fun!"  
  
Smith glanced at him, one eyebrow up, before he got up. "He's right, let's go make some havoc!" He then turned and pointed to Sips. "You're the King of Misrule, what do you want to do?"  
  
Put in the spotlight in an unexpected way, Sips tilted his hat back, thoughtful for a moment. "Well, what do fae even DO at Saturnalia? I've only ever hid away for the week." He glanced at Ross, who could only shrug.  
  
"I was stuck in a church this time last year, I have no idea."  
  
Already sliding his shoes on, Trott let out a huff. "We go cause MISCHIEF! So any mischief-ridden thing you ever wanted to do growing up, we'll do it today!"  
  
As they all walked out the door, Sips noted the bat Ross carried. "I never see you use that, why do you have it?"  
  
Ross looked at the bat, drumming his fingers on it, then shrugged. "I dunno, I like the feel of it."  
  
Sips was quiet for a moment as they tromped down the stairs, then shrugged. "Okay, reason enough."  
  
When they walked out the front doors of the building, they found the need to stop as the city's kelpies pranced by. Ross watched them with wide eyes, taking in their various coats. Most were white or dappled gray, with a few that came in other colors. He glanced at Smith, who was grinning.  
  
"No other kelpie like me, mate, and I already did my running when we got here." The days of that particular fiery youth were gone, replaced by the fires of deffiance and survival. If he was going to run with a herd, it'd be one of his own making, his own court.  
  
They spent the entire day tracking their way across the city, the boundaries of the courts abandoned for the holiday. They had free reign to cause mischief in the different courts' areas, do what they wished in whatever district. In abandoned buildings, fire danced and raced along rotting wood, a bat broke windows. In neighborhoods, the same bat connected with mailboxes.  
  
As the city's lights came on, Sips watched Ross all but destroy a large post box, digging his claws in and all but shredding the metal. "Damn..." He took out his pack of cigarettes, removing one to light it. "He's sure angry."  
  
Beside him, Trott had his arms crossed. "Of course he's angry. It's about the anniversary of Smith bringing him home." His nose wrinkled. "Day before Christmas... Hell of a surprise that was, nearly broke my toes on all the stone he brought home WITH him."  
  
"I can imagine." He let out a puff of smoke, pack returned to his pocket and his free hand nestled warmly in it. "People don't take abandonment too well, especially once they're around people who make them feel like they matter." Trott glanced at him, a question about what he knew on his tongue, only to withold it. There was no sense asking now.  
  
Smith walked up, sporting a new jacket. He watched Ross for a moment, not bothering to look at Sips or Trott. "Good thing he can heal himself with stone." Ross' hands had become blackened from places he'd torn at the box, a quiet sign that being around fae for a day shy of a year had effected the magic that was part of him. The natural magic of the world and how it worked was recognizing him as a fae, not a magic construct carved by human hands and given purpose by their faith.  
  
He finally kicked the last of it, walking over. Without a word, he accepted his bat back from Trott, leaving dark marks on the duck tape and aluminum. Sips regarded him for a moment, then ruffled his hair. "Feel better?"  
  
"Not really." He lifted the bat, resting it on his shoulder. "Still want to do things."  
  
Trott started walking, ambling toward home. "It'd better not be running naked through the park." When he didn't hear Sips and Smith following, he turned around, noting their expressions. Ross' tail flicked.  
  
"Told him that's what I felt like having the urge to do, when it started." He looked at his hand, turning it over, marveling for a moment at how blackened his fingers had gotten. His tail waved behind him, before finding a comforting spot around Smith's waist while they walked. After a moment, he leaned slightly on him, letting out a hum. "Maybe it IS out of me, after all..."  
  
Trailing behind them, Sips chuckled. "If you're angry at the world, go ahead and let it out. Don't bottle it up, trust me. It doesn't end well." He stopped, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the slick sidewalk to put it out.  
  
Ross stopped, hearing a muffled sound shortly after, turning around. "Sips?" His tail tightened around Smith as panic rose up in him. "SIPS!"  
  
Smith, with no choice in the matter on walking, turned around to look, and felt his stomach leap into his throat. "Oh shit, no!" Trott dashed by them, quickly followed by Smith and Ross as they chased the fae that had run off with their friend.  
  
Their feet pounded along the sidewalk, doing their best to keep up with the retreating figures, but no ground seemed to ever be gained. Finally Smith slowed to a stop, bending over and sides heaving. "Trott... Mate... This is hopeless."  
  
Stopping to lean against Smith, Trott coughed. "No- No shit."  
  
Ross only stopped because the other two did, staring at them. "This is NOT hopeless! We have to get him back!" Chewing his lip for a moment, Ross took his shoes off, tossing them away. Looking up at the building they'd stopped by, he shifted his bat to his tail and began climbing.  
  
Watching him go up, Smith shook his head. "I'm not doing that. Kelpies don't climb buildings like that."  
  
"No, but they can gallop."  
  
Looking at Trott, Smith blinked as realization hit him. "Right..."  
  
They were soon tearing down the street, full-tilt, Trott clinging to Smith's back. It didn't matter to them that people would see them, a lone selkie clinging to the a lone kelpie, chasing both a group of fae and the gargoyle racing across the rooftops. Skidding around a corner, Smith's breath trailed behind them in misty clouds, hooves clattering across old paving as they entered the oldest parts of the city.  
  
What ever building had been built on the spot by humans seeking to chase the fae out had long ago fallen, the space once again taken over. The altar at the center was made of the rubble , a large slab of stone on four pillars made, themselves, of slab stones and a mix of old bricks. Just how old, very few in the city could tell. No fae cared to learn.  
  
Trott, Smith, and Ross shoved their way through the cheering and jeering crowd of fae, soon reaching the center. Sips was on the slab, duck tape over his mouth and wrists tied behind his back, looking well and truly afraid. Directly around Sips and the altar stood the eleven sidhe lords of the city, with Kirin in the middle.  
  
"So the Garbage Court finally joined us!" He reached up, grabbing Sips by the hair to pull his head back, exposing his throat. "You know, we found your choice of sacrifice VERY interesting, given last year's sacrifice."  
  
Ross started toward the altar, a deep growl like stones grinding together emenating from his throat. "Let him GO." He stopped when Sjin got in his way, a knife pointing at him.  
  
"We can't do that, and you know it. We have to make a sacrifice, blood HAS to be spilled on the altar, or we're not protected!"  
  
Staring at the knife, he knocked it away, growling at Sjin. "Protected from WHAT?"  
  
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Kirin let out his own growl. "Oh my goddess... Have you two taught him NOTHING? You take a gargoyle from a church, and clearly need to teach him about the world, and you've neglected that! Maybe he needs to be in another court so he actually LEARNS things." He motioned Ross over. "Get over here."  
  
Glancing between his court and the sidhe lord, Ross hesitated. Gripping his bat, he looked back, expression hard. "Whatever you have to say, can be said as we stand. But let Sips go!"  
  
"No can do." His arm was getting tired, though, and it was getting closer to midnight. They'd have to hurry this up. "We make a sacrifice to protect the fae of the city from being driven out. Humans remain unwilling to mess with us while we're protected by magic, but if we DON'T make the sacrifice, we're unprotected, and nothing we do can stop them from driving us out. This is for our continued existence in the city, and you three idiots are going to muck it up if you're not careful! Sjin, give me that blade!"  
  
As Sjin stretched his arm out, handle pointed toward Kirin, it wasn't Ross who moved first, it was Smith. With an angry sound, he tackled Sjin, sending the knife clattering across the ground and out of sight under various feet and hooves and paws. Some quiet spell of stillness and silence broke, all Hell errupting as fae began fighting. Ross' bat connected with faces , sides, legs, blood flew everywhere from everywhere, and he lost track of just which fae were fighting who.  
  
Forgotten on the altar, Sips looked around, before inching and wiggling. It wasn't particularly easy, and he found himself inch-worming along, but he managed to wiggle himself around so that his feet were on the ground. Standing up, he looked around, then ran for a break in the crowd. There was a yell behind him, causing Sips to turn and look.  
  
"GET BACK HERE!" As Sips ran, Kirin gave chase, anger flashing in all of his eyes.  
  
Skidding around a corner, Sips struggled to free his hands as he ran, cursing as best he could under the duck tape the whole time. Behind him, he heard the steady rythmic clip of Kirin's hooves, followed by the clip of a different pair of hooves. Who else was chasing, he didn't know, and at the moment he didn't care to look. One of the big old houses of the district, long abandoned, loomed into view, a promising place to hide that he gladly ran to.  
  
Legs and lungs burning, Sips hurried through the first floor of the house, looking for a room to hide in. He heard Kirin looking from room to room, calling for him. Stopping in one of the rooms, he pressed his back to a wall, sides heaving as he strained to listen.  
  
Slowly making his way through the house, Kirin looked around. "I know you're in here, you can't hide forever!" He stepped through a door, looking around at the empty room. Nothing. "Damn." He turned around, nearly jumping out of his skin when he found Sjin right behind him. "Go that way down the hall, see if he's there."  
  
"Of course." Watching Kirin for a moment, Sjin went the opposite direction, the sound of his hooves dulled between the rotting carpet and the thick layer of dust and dirt on it. When he stepped through a door, he found himself staring right at Sips, who was struggling again to get the rope off his wrists. They stared at each other for a moment, one face filled with fear and the other comparable to boredom. Looking the other way and around the room, Sjin left it and a confused Sips.  
  
Returning to the foyer, Kirin crossed his arms. "Where could he have gone?"  
  
"Maybe he went down to the basement."  
  
Tapping a finger on his upper arm, Kirin was thoughtful for a moment, then turned and headed to the kitchen. "Let's look there, then. I didn't hear the door open, though."  
  
Following behind him, Sjin could only shrug. "If he was careful and quiet. I can't even hear myself walking in here, let alone a door open."  
  
Bruised, clothes torn, and with more than a little blood both his own and somebody else's covering him, Smith stopped in front of one of the old houses. Hands on his knees for the second time in the night, he gulped in the ice cold air as his lungs burned from running. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footfalls of Ross, Trott on his back as they caught up, in a similar state of disarray. He looked around, trying to figure out just where Sips and the two sidhe lords had gone.  
  
Setting Trott down, Ross grabbed his bat from where his tail gripped it. "They're close.."  
  
"How the hell can you tell?" Smith swallowed, the dryness of his throat making him cringe. "I can't smell shit out here except mildew from that crumbling old house!"  
  
"I knew you were in my church long before I looked at you, Smith. Old magic." Looking around, Ross lifted the bat up, pointing at the house. "They're in there."  
  
"Hope you're right..." He looked at Trott, who hadn't said a word but simply sunk down to sit on the sidewalk. "You stay here, we'll go find Sips." Trott could only nod, sinking far enough to lay back. Snow was his pillow, but he didn't give a damn, it felt good against the ache in his body from fighting.  
  
The foyer was dark, none of the street lights reaching in through the shuttered windows or the open door. As Ross stepped in, he tilted his head, listening carefully. "They're in the basement. But Sips isn't." He pressed a hand to the wall, looked around, then began walking in a seemingly erratic pattern.  
  
Smith watched him for a moment, then followed, traveling more linear. "If Sips isn't in the basement, then where-" His words were cut off as Sips hurried out of the hall, stopping when he saw their figures. When his eyes had adjusted to the shift of light between the room he'd been in and the room he was now in, he visibly relaxed, turning around to wiggle his hands. Smith hurried over, untying the ropes. "How did you hide?"  
  
Hands free, Sips ripped the tape off his mouth, making a face and trying to not scream. Moving his jaw a few times, he rubbed his wrists. "I didn't, not too great. The smaller shit lord looked right at me and left!" He reached up, rubbing at his face. "Shit that hurt!"  
  
Ross and Smith shared a look, before Smith began ushering him toward the door. "Go outside and wait with Trott, we'll take care of their shitnesses."  
  
Down in the basement, Kirin checked in one of the rooms. "This place is creepy, and any remorse I had for killing humans every year are out the window."  
  
"My remorse was long gone." Sjin peeked at a cabinet, left behind by the previous owners. Jars full of various things decorated the shelves, old and dusty medical equipment taking up some other shelves under them. Whatever the last home owner had been up to, he didn't want to know.  
  
Not that it mattered to him at the moment. With Kirin distracted by looking in a dark room, he pulled out some rope from his pocket. Carefully, he wrapped one end around his right hand, inching toward the much taller fae.  
  
"I think it's safe to say, this place should be demo-" Kirin's words were cut off as Sjin jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around the front of his throat. He struggled, tail lashing and hitting a table as he twisted, trying to get free as he began choking for air. Slamming backward into a wall, he didn't hear the heavy thudding of feet on the stairs, or yelling from their direction, as the world began to tinge with a blackness unlike the basement's darkness.  
  
He gasped as there was the sickening crack of metal meeting ribs and the pressure on his throat gave way, sinking to his knees in the dust and dirt of the floor. There was loud cursing before the sound of Sjin running off, and then strong stone fingers closing around his arm to lift him.  
  
Coming back to himself, Kirin rubbed his throat, looking at Ross and Smith. "You saved my life..." Not how he wanted to end Saturnalia, owing somebody his life, especially an upstart little nobody court. But if the alternative was that his long life ended with the holiday, he figured it was the better option to owe than be dead.  
  
Smith could only shrug passively. "Easy enough to pay us back - Find somebody else to sacrifice instead of Sips. Life for a life, right?" Really, that had worked out a bit too perfectly. None of them had known how they would get Sips out of there, save him from the altar and knife. If they had to, they would have just grabbed him and fled the city, other fae be damned. Saving Kirin from trying to kill Sjin had been an unexpected thing.  
  
He stared at Smith for a moment, before letting out a sound. "Fine. But I won't say deal yet. There's still the matter of the other fae, and a new sacrifice. We'll settle that back at the altar."  
  
When they got outside, they found Sips and Trott waiting. They were leaning against each other, breath rising in the light of a street lamp, not paying much mind to the world around them. Sips looked up when he felt Ross' tail nudge him and leaned away at the sight of Kirin.  
  
"Relax, I'm not going to kill you now." He reached up, rubbing his throat with a grimace. "Call it a... Trade off."  
  
"Oh, good. So... Now what?" He looked at Trott, who shrugged, then over to Smith and Ross.  
  
Smith was quiet for a moment, staring off into the night. After a moment, he looked at his watch. "We have half an hour to find a new sacrifice and get back to the altar." He glanced at Kirin. "Does it HAVE to be human?"  
  
Hands shoved into his pocket, he let out a huff. "No. It's just preferred. A stray dog or cat will work just fine." He heard a sound from Ross, giving him a look. "They're going to die out here anyway, this gives their death some MEANING. Or do you want to be chased out by the same humans who made you and abandoned you?"  
  
If Ross had animal ears, they would have folded back as he looked down. "Suppose so... I don't like it, though. Animals are innocents."  
  
"And humans are less so, but we'll take what we can get right now." He didn't wait for a reply, walking down the road, the hairs on his tail brushing the ground as he moved.  
  
They found a feral cat on the way back, Ross carrying the terrified creature so nobody else got scratched up. The other fae accepted it as a substitute in light of what had transpired with Sjin, and when the ritual was over, just before midnight, they dispersed back to the nooks and crannies of the city they hid in.  
  
As the last of them left, Kirin looked at the Garbage Court, face betraying how tired he was. "You've done a pretty ballsy thing. Nobody defies the sidhe lords like that and lives. But then, nobody saves the life of a sidhe lord like that." He looked out into the night, knowing Sjin had gone back to his own court's territory to recover. "Sjin will have a lot to answer for come spring." He made a face, as if the words to follow pained him to say. "I look forward to seeing your court show up to the meeting."  
  
When none of the three around him said nothing, Sips found himself shrugging. "Looking forward to showing up." He glanced at the three he'd come to enjoy the company of, then tilted his head. "Let's go home, guys." Though he was still jittery from the night, having nearly died, he pulled his hands from his pockets to hold his arms wide and up. "Your king wants a hot fucking bath, because this night can't end soon enough! And frankly, Smiffy, you stink."  
  
"I do NOT stink!"  
  
Eyeing Kirin warily for a moment, Ross turned and leaned close to Smith, closing his eyes to give a strong sniff. He made an act of covering his nose. "You stink, mate, you need a shower."  
  
Trott sighed, shoving them both. "Come on, let's go already, it's a long walk home and I want a hot bath, myself, and I'd like to take care of all the pain I know Smith and I'll be bitching about in the morning!"  
  


* * *

  
  
Despite the sun peeking over the horizon, Trott sat in his kitchen chair, feet on the window sill once again. He gripped a mug of tea between his hands, staring out at the growing light over the city. The fae were safe another year, not at risk for being chased out. They had crowned Sips the King of Misrule, and he'd survived in exchange for Kirin living. He took a sip of his tea, watching the people below go about their morning routines.  
  
A pair of arms draped around his shoulders, a chin resting on his head. "Never thought I'd be so damn happy to see Christmas Eve again."  
  
Trott didn't glance up, instead raising his cup to his mouth again. After a moment, he finally looked up. "What were you and Kirin talking about, an irony in picking you?"  
  
Sips was quiet, staring at the waking city. Most humans were unaware of what went on amid the fae during Saturnalia, only knowing that a person went missing that nobody wanted to ask questions about the location of. But he knew all too well what happened. Finally, he let out a sigh, pressing his forehead against the top of Trott's head. "They took a close friend of mine last year. Real close, like brothers or something. I guess we were meant to run into each other, because I had the balls last year to go charging in to try and get him back."  
  
He was quiet, listening, back to staring out the window. "Heard about a comotion at the end of last year's Saturnalia... We were a bit busy with our own thing at the time, though." He glanced over at the bed, where Ross was faking sleeping with Smith sprawled across his still-shower-warm body. "I guess you could call this something of Ross' first birthday, a full year here with us."  
  
"How'd that work, anyway? I was too wrapped up in what was going on with my own life to pay attention to anything else."  
  
Trott let out a quiet laugh. "Smith found an old church while looking for a shop location for us, and turned out there was a gargoyle protecting what was left of it. Had a crater in one side older than either one of us, hadn't seen much human life in a long time. Smith liked what he saw, found out his new friend couldn't leave while the church stood, and burned it down." He set the empty mug on the floor. "He found out three days after Smith brought him home just what we do in bed and called us blasphemous."  
  
It was Sips' turn to let out a slight laugh. "You don't come from a church like that without bringing what you learned at it with you." He stood up, tugging at Trott. "Now come on, that bed looks damn inviting, especially with how much heat Ross is giving off. And frankly, my legs are still burning from that run."  
  
"Imagine how I feel right now..."  
  
"Don't gotta, I felt like that last year." He sank into the bed, shoving Smith slightly so he could nestle up against the warmth Ross was still giving off. Trott joined them, all but laying across all three as he nestled into the heat trapped under the large duvet. As the sun rose higher in the sky, three slept and one pretended to, a peace over the flat that was unlike anything they'd felt before.

**Author's Note:**

> Street Fighter came out in August 1987


End file.
